"Get that ugly shit out of my face," Blake snapped at Slim.
I—who had a hummus sandwich an inch away from my face—choked on air, right before gasping, "That's what she said," like there was a fire beneath my ass.
Slim tipped his head back and laughed, loud, pulling the sheet of paper he'd been shoving into Blake's face away. "Ah, shit."
"Sorry," I apologized, looking over at Blake. He was shaking his head, still tearing away at the baked potato he'd been eating. "Youasked for it."
He waved his fork-less hand in my direction. "Sure, smartass."
I waggled my eyebrows over at Slim, referring to the ugly shit Blake had been cawing at. "Not that my opinion matters, but I think it's awesome."
The piece of paper he'd been holding up against Blake's face was a design he'd finished last night. The artwork was of a bright blue dragon with huge black wings,firingout a spray of rainbow colors. I mean, considering my name meant rainbow,I had a fondness of them. Plus, it was epic.
"You want me to save this one for you?" he asked a little too quickly.
Like I wouldn't remember he tried at least once a week to get me to agree to a tattoo. It wasn't like I hadn't thought about it regularly. I did. I loved the tattoos that the guys and Blue did, but there was only one place on my body that I could instantly think ofwhereI'd want one at. That one place was the only location I couldn't have done.
The inside of my arm.
But I didn't want to hurt Slim's feelings and have him think that I didn't want his work since I'd kept shooting him down each time he brought it up.
"If you could tattoo over some scar tissue I have, I'd tell you let's do it right now. You can't though, right?"
The redhead nodded slowly, frowning. "Not a good idea." He tipped his head in question. "Where at?"
That wouldn't give away too much, would it? "My inner bicep." Well, what was left of it.
"Is it a lot?" Blake asked, narrowing his eyes.
Crap, I forgot how observant he was. "Yeah."
He pursed his lips. "Is that why you're always wearing long sleeves?"
Of course he'd notice. Of course. I mean, I did happen to be the only person I could think of that wore long-sleeved clothing every day. Sure most of the material was light, but the fact was, in Texas heat, I'd stick out like a sore thumb. Someone was bound to notice it at some point.
Most girls my age were usually trying to take clothes off instead of putting more on. That seemed to be the story of my life. When some people my age wereworryingabout certain things, I'd be stuck tackling a whole differenttype ofmonster. Oh well.
I wanted to touch my arm but I had to fight the urge so that I wouldn't draw more attention to it. "Yeah. It's prettybig."
Blake glanced down at the wrong arm before shaking his head, smiling just a bit. "Girl, we all have stuff wrong with us. You see these ears?" He pointed at them and for the first time, I noticed that they looked just a little bit larger than they should have been ideally proportional. "Kids used to call me Dumbo."
Slim snorted really loud. "I can see that."
I elbowed him in the side. "That's so mean."
The redhead shrugged. "They used to call me Gingervitis." He paused. "Cinnamon dick." He looked up at the ceiling as if in deep thought. "Once, someshit-nuggetspulled down my pants in gym class to see if—," he sent me a sidelong glance, "the carpet matched the drapes."
"Holy crap," I started laughing, not able to help it.
Slim nodded, grinning. "Yeah. I was a late bloomer, so you can only imagine."
Blake covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking. "You had a little tonsil tickler, didn't you?"
"I hadn't hit puberty yet!"
"Be honest, that really happened like last week, didn't it?" Blake snorted.
By some miracle, right before I face-planted the desk from how hard I was laughing, I caught Slim shooting the middle fingerinthe bald man's direction.
